


Wasted Away

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened after the Spring Break filming ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted Away

**Author's Note:**

> Beckalina donated the bunny to me. TNL donated the opening, and I took it from there. they were drunk! on national TV! that's all that's real about this story.

"That was disgraceful," Johnny said, his grip tight on Justin's forearm. "You were all shit-faced on national TV. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Dunno," Justin murmured, avoiding Joey's smirking eyes. "But, uhh, hey. It won't happen again."

"It won't," JC said, brightly.

"'The fuck it won't," Chris grunted, and Joey, glassy-eyed, reached for his margarita.

* * *

"It's not our fault, anyway," Chris pointed out, once the shooting crew had cleaned up their equipment -- and most of the chips from the floor -- and, along with Johnny, abandoned them to the room: MTV had it rented for the night, and none of them were much in shape for driving, so they'd all reached for the remaining drinks ("--before they melt," Lance noted wryly) and relaxed back on chair and bed and couch. "They didn't have to put alcohol in these things."

"Yeah, and you guys looked like idiots." JC sat back, rubbing his forehead, his eyes closed. He missed the glance Joey shot Lance, the one that took in the last full margarita glass and the mini-fridge by the dresser.

"'You guys'?" Chris nearly choked, his eyes going wide, and Justin patted him sympathetically on the back. "Don't even go there, you sounded just as lame--"

"Hey, Chris," Joey said, "relax, dude. Doesn't matter now."

"Doesn't matter? It'll matter when the thing airs and we come off like a bunch of morons," JC said, glaring at Joey.

Lance leaned over, with difficulty, reaching for the untouched margarita. When it shook in his hand, Joey plucked it from him and offered it to JC. "Unwind, C, you're getting too freaked out about this."

"Well, _someone_ has to." JC pointedly ignored the peace offering.

"He needs to de-stress," Lance opined, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the floor. "Best way I know of for that is sex."

Justin perked right up at that, making Joey laugh. "Someone wants to get some."

"Fuck off," Justin said, staring at Lance, his tongue darting out to lick dry lips; after a moment, he tugged off his sunglasses and tossed them aside, while Lance gave him a steady gaze.

"Come here," Lance murmured, in a tone that made JC squirm and look from one of them to the other.

"What the-- what are you, kidding or something?"

"Nope." Lance grinned, even as Justin stood, shakily making his way over remaining crumbs of salsa chips to the couch where Lance reclined. They looked at each other for a moment, and then: "Gimme some sugar," Lance purred.

Justin grinned, slid bonelessly to his knees, and bent to kiss Lance. JC's eyes flicked, startled, from that surprising view, to where Chris was openly eyeing Joey.

"Y'all are drunk," he stated, as if he'd just noticed this, and Chris laughed.

"You noticed, huh? Jeez, C, relax, dude. It's not, like, a big thing."

"Are you kidding? We looked like fucking yahoos on MTV, and you don't care--"

"No one will notice, C." Joey grabbed at JC's wrist, pulling him down to the bed. "Come on, relax. You're way too sober."

"And you're drunk off your ass." JC tried to get up, but suddenly Joey was there, above him, pushing him down to the mattress, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent. JC's throat went dry.

"Loosen up, C," he murmured. JC felt a chill go through him, a shiver that echoed when Joey's hand touched his face, fingertips sliding into his hair.

"JC needs a drink," Chris declared from somewhere behind Joey. "You gotta catch up with us." Joey leaned back, a confident smile on his face, and pulled JC by the hands into a sitting position.

Chris squirmed in next to them, though there was plenty of room on the wide bed, and held the full margarita glass to JC's lips. Automatically, JC accepted it, his eyes locked on Chris's; he found himself unable to tear away from that intense gaze as he opened his mouth to sip at the soury-sweet concoction, made sharp by salt encrusted on the glass's rim.

The sound of kissing was loud from the couch now. JC glanced over, took in a sudden, involuntary breath at the sight of Justin pinning Lance down, the press of tongues in their mouths brutally obvious. Justin had Lance's wrists captured in one hand; the other worked at Lance's groin, making Lance writhe and groan. JC gulped at the margarita, suddenly wanting nothing more than the oblivion of drunkenness.

It hit his stomach hard, and he was abruptly aware -- as the room began to shimmy around him -- that he hadn't eaten since early that morning. "That's it," he heard Chris say, and then a hand was pulling the glass away and a humid mouth covered his, and he had time to register Chris's scent and the tart taste of lime. Then Chris slid away and Joey was kissing him with spicy warm lips and JC forgot to fight it, forgot to breathe, looped his arms around Joey's neck and clung, while Chris cackled somewhere off to JC's right.

He felt, rather than saw, Chris move around the bed. The mattress dipped, shifting; Chris had moved around behind Joey, was stripping Joey's shirt from him. Joey broke the kiss long enough to let it be pulled over his head; then he pushed JC to his back and crawled over him.

It was easy to lie there, eyes closed, with Joey's lips searing his neck and Chris off somewhere, panting faint encouragement. In the pleasant buzz of intoxication, JC couldn't tell whether the bed was shifting, or if it was the room swaying around him; but when Joey put a knee between his legs and pressed, bringing his thigh into galvanizing contact with JC's dick, JC's mind went blank. He groaned, arched his hips into that sweet sturdy length of muscle, grinding indiscriminately.

"Woah, he's fuckin' hot," Chris muttered, and then there was heat on his other side, tart Chris-lips on his, and Chris had removed his shirt, too -- JC's hand drifted up over heated bare skin, his fingers tangling in soft hair at Chris's nape.

"He has too many clothes on." Joey's voice had dropped to a rumble that rivaled the basso croons emanating from the couch. JC couldn't agree more. He was burning up, between the twin flushes of alcohol and arousal, and getting naked was the best idea he'd heard yet.

Joey tugged him back up; he went, limp, boneless, raising his arms to allow Chris to slide his tee-shirt off. Then Joey's sleek lips, framed in ticklish short hair, found his again, and Joey's hands moved broad and hot over JC's back, smoothing down heated skin until they met the elastic of JC's waistband.

A shiver went up JC's spine, a feeling of vulnerability sweeping over him all at once, at that movement of Joey's. It was one thing, kissing, even the heat of Joey's hands inside his track pants, but there was nakedness now -- a flash, there, Justin's hips shimmying out of shorts and nothing underneath and oh fuck he was hard, Jesus -- and Chris was reaching around JC's waist now, chin hooked over his shoulder as his short fingers unbuttoned Joey's shorts, and JC saw a glimpse of cockhead flushed dark and glistening.

"Shit," JC gulped. The Margarita was starting to move unpleasantly in his stomach now, and he leaned forward, bracing his forehead on Joey's warm shoulder.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Joey moved a soothing hand over JC's back, fingers wide, a little sweaty, on the lean bumpy length of JC's spine. "It's okay, C. Do you want to stop?"

Chris was stroking him, too, now, a hand making slow prickly circles on his belly. JC closed his eyes and heard Lance take Justin into his mouth, the wet slide. He could picture it with frightening accuracy: Justin, standing before the couch; Lance seated, his hands loosely clasped to Justin's slender hips, his lips gleaming dark around the tight skin; Justin's body swaying as Lance's head moved back and forth, wetting the shaft.

Chris's hand slipped lower, closing over his cock, and JC shuddered against Joey. "Do you want to keep going?" Chris whispered in his ear, sibilant and hot.

JC nodded, his chin sliding against Joey's damp flesh, and Chris's hand tightened, squeezed, sent a thrill rocketing through JC. Almost involuntary, JC's fingers slipped down Joey's chest, spiking up the coarse hair, to feel at the heat between his legs. Joey stiffened, muttering something incoherent and yanking his shorts down over his hips.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, Lance--" Justin was moaning now; JC looked up, saw Justin's head flung back, his face bright pink and his throat working. His hands were buried in Lance's hair, and from the tone in his voice, if he wasn't already coming, he was pretty damn close. It was white-hot, made JC's brain buzz into incoherence to see Lance deep-throating Justin.

When Chris tugged JC back and started pulling his pants down, JC helped him, almost desperate in his need to be touched, to climax. Chris pushed JC over on his side. JC had half a mind to protest about all the shoving around everyone was doing to him, and then Chris laid down too and took JC's cock into his mouth, and JC lost track of whatever it was he'd been about to say.

How he didn't come on the spot, he didn't know, but he splayed his fingers over Chris's neck and let him work. Joey'd moved up, removed his own shorts; and when he guided his erection to JC's mouth, JC breathed him in eagerly, the heat and scent and taste of him.

Distant in JC's ears, Justin's moans took on a throaty sound of fulfillment that rattled the edges of JC's awareness. His focus was torn between the damp lush heat of Chris's mouth, and the fired steel of Joey's cock -- huge, feeling enormous in his mouth -- moving lazily in miniscule thrusts between his own lips. JC reached up, closed his fist around the shaft, feeling Chris's hands creep over his ass -- God, his tongue was amazing, everywhere at once, rough and sweet and nasty. JC rolled his hips back, and Chris followed, mouth open, seeking.

Joey straddled JC's chest, and JC's hands curved around broad hips, drawing him in. JC kept his eyes closed; he always felt weird watching someone while giving fellatio. Still, he could tell that Joey was enjoying it -- at least, if the whimpers, the soft words of encouragement, the "ah, fuck, yeah, Jace--" were any indication.

JC lost track of time for a while; his senses were swamped by the doubled stimulation of sucking Joey while Chris went down on him. He let his throat open, swallowing Joey as deep as he could; the resultant moan elicited by that action excited JC beyond measure, and when Chris did something indescribably good with his lips and tongue, JC came in waves. He gasped around Joey's dick, pleasure thrumming through his spine straight up to his brain, and Joey's hands tightened in JC's hair, his own orgasm coaxed on by JC's intense measures.

Chris sat up, licking his lips, and pressed himself all along Joey's sweaty back. Joey shivered, leaning back to let his softening cock slip out of JC's mouth. JC rested his head on the pillow, watching Chris's hands move eagerly over Joey's chest. "Want to fuck you," Chris hissed in Joey's ear; the heat of that sent a ripple through Joey into JC's skin. He tossed a negligent glance at Lance and Justin, and grinned: Lance had laid back on the couch with Justin kneeling over him, head bobbing eagerly on Lance's dick, which, even from that distance, seemed formidable. JC was mildly tempted to go over and help Justin, but then Joey was laying down over him again -- so hot, flesh burning his -- making JC think that he would always have an impression of Joey's body branded into him. Joey was still half-hard, and he rubbed himself against JC's thigh, his cock sliding on sweat-soaked skin.

"You mind?" he asked. "Chris is gonna--"

"God, no," JC breathed. He cupped Joey's face in his hands, kissing him, deep and nasty, needy. The room dipped again -- Chris climbing back on the bed, something in his hands. He pushed Joey, who laid down, full-length, on JC. JC watched Joey's face in fascination, the way it had gone red and was now dripping with sweat; Joey's mouth dropped open, and he flinched in a way that had nothing to do with pain when Chris's first finger slid into him.

"Good?" Chris crooned, barely audible over the sound of blood pounding in JC's ears. Joey jerked, mumbled affirmation, his hips grinding into JC in slow urgent thrusts. JC felt himself hardening again alongside Joey's returning erection, and it was blinding sweetness to push his dick up against the hot damp skin of Joey's belly, against the friction of heat and coarse hair and the stiff penis mirroring his own.

Chris had two fingers pushing deep into Joey now; two, JC knew, because he'd dimly heard Chris ask Joey if he was ready for more, and Joey had grunted an agreement. Chris's hand moved fast and dirty, making Joey writhe in an agony of need on JC, bearing him down into the mattress.

"Wait," Joey gasped. Chris paused; JC could see the look of puzzlement on his face. Joey cradled JC's cheek in one hand, his eyes bright. "Can I-- while Chris is-- C," he managed between gulps of air. JC felt a new charge of excitement surge through him.

"Sure," he murmured, and pulled Joey down for another desperate kiss. Then Joey leaned back, groping on the mattress for a condom; Chris put it in his hand, along with a bottle of lube ( _where did that come from?_ JC wondered), kissing him at the same time, a long hot wet kiss. Chris unrolled the condom over Joey's dick, hands lingering.

With a laugh, Joey pushed Chris's hand away and bent over JC again. His free hand thumbed open the plastic bottle, his eyes and smile warm. As his fingers, moistened, began to press against the sensitive skin between JC's wide-spread legs, JC closed his legs and let his consciousness drift.

His whole body felt alive, pulsing, centered on the intense focus of Joey's fingers, sawing slowly in and out of him. One, and then another, wet and hurting but so good, and they hit the spot and it jolted through him, and he registered, faintly, Joey's chuckle. Joey grasped JC's cock with his other hand, stroked it, sending constant sparks of sensation through him. He could hear moans from the couch, the sound of wet slapping, guessed that Lance and Justin had moved on to fucking. His heart seemed to expand in his chest when he thought that, very soon, Joey would be fucking him.

And the heat, twisting, burning between his legs, was slipping away; but it was only a moment's emptiness. Then Joey's body covered his, one hand guiding his cock to JC's relaxed passage, his smile reassuring and full of affection. JC wound his arms around Joey's neck and kissed the smile as Joey sank into him.

JC felt Chris's hands on his thighs, pushing them further apart, and then -- when Joey had buried himself in JC, when JC felt like he was being bent in two -- he was moving behind Joey, doing something Joey couldn't see, but it made Joey shudder, the sensation rippling into JC. His cock jumped, trapped between his belly and Joey's, as Chris began to push in. Joey had gone tense and still, quivering all over, his face pressed to JC's neck. JC smoothed a hand through soft, damp hair, shivering himself, lost in the sensation: Joey's thick cock buried in him, filling him up beyond all imagining, was in and of itself incredible, but to meet Chris's black eyes -- to see the scalding heat in them -- that multiplied the hotness of it a thousandfold.

Chris slid back a little, and Joey surged forward, groaning; JC arched into him with an answering cry. They established the cadence slowly, Chris's hands on JC's thighs, his knees, Joey's hips, as if he needed to touch them as much as possible -- and he was talking, JC realized dazedly, the way he always talked: "Oh, fuck, Fatone, that's hot, I knew it, I fucking knew-- isn't he fucking gorgeous, C?"

Hands grasping at Joey's shoulders, JC could do little more than nod. He licked his lips, trying to respond, but then Joey shifted his hips and slid harder into him and hit him, got him just right, and aching pleasure spasmed through JC's body. Then all he could think to do was hold on, hold on, letting Joey rock into him, riding the waves of cresting joy with every sharp powerful thrust.

It was Joey's eyes that got him at last: dark and dazed, they made him seem somewhere beyond himself, drowning in the unmeasurable heat of fucking and being fucked all at once, of Chris in him and JC tight around him. Seeing that ecstasy in his eyes, JC's breath hitched -- past the already-shallow panting that had been his breathing pattern since they'd begun all this -- and bore up to meet his thrusts; his hand squeezed his own cock, hot between their bodies, and, with sweat stinging his eyes as he watched Joey, JC felt orgasm rush over him. It gripped him hard, spun him wildly before releasing him into a pile of trembling, flushed limbs, utterly spent.

Above him, Joey groaned, his rhythm faltering, and he bucked hard into JC as he came. His voice was hoarse and dry, his body continuing to jerk as Chris kept thrusting; but Chris was done, too, in a few more rolling thrusts, his eyes closed tight and his lower lip caught between sharp teeth.

JC let his own eyes drift shut, too exhausted to even contemplate moving. Above him, as he shifted and slid out of JC, Joey mewled, and JC let out a sympathetic whimper at the loss; then Joey laid down next to him, stretching heavily, hot and damp and weary. "Damn, C," he murmured. Eyes still shut, JC grinned.

"Fucking amazing," he replied, and accepted the sleepy, warm kisses Joey bestowed on his lips and cheeks.

Another hand caressed his hip: Chris, JC guessed, before the fleeting touch disappeared. Then sheets floated up over them, and JC gave a soft, contented sigh, snuggling into Joey's warmth.

"Hey, toss us the blanket." That was Justin's ragged voice; JC didn't even feel up to cracking open an eye to see what had become of them. He could hear Lance murmuring in a pleased undertone, though, so he wasn't too worried about them.

"So good," Chris whispered, curling up behind Joey, one arm sleeking around Joey's waist; his fingertips spread over JC's stomach, and JC smiled.

"You guys wanna do this again, we don't have to get drunk on MTV," he said, his own voice scratchy and thin. He felt Joey's grin, and lifted his head -- reluctantly -- to open his eyes.

"We won't," Joey chuckled, kissing JC's forehead. "This just seemed like a good chance for us to get you in bed."

"B-- what?" JC knew he hadn't had that much to drink, but his mind felt foggy and thick nonetheless.

"We've all been, um. For a while now," Joey said, sounding a bit puzzled. "Thought you knew. But, um, like, I wanted you, so..." He shrugged, ducking his face against JC's neck again, and JC felt the flush rising on Joey's cheeks.

JC wormed a hand out from under the covers, tugging at Joey's chin until he could look into his face again; Joey's eyes remained focused on JC's collarbone. "So you set this up because you wanted to have sex with me," JC said softly.

"Well, yeah." Joey's eyelids stayed down, stubborn. JC pressed his lips to the doubtful frown into which Joey's mouth had formed; then he pulled back, smiling.

"All you had to do was say something."

"Oh." Joey's eyes were wide, now, and surprised; after a moment, a grin stealing across his face, he said "Oh" again, and, cupping JC's face in his hand, kissed him lingeringly.

"Go to sleep," Chris mumbled behind him. Joey smiled, running his hand back over Chris's hip, and laid his head down on the pillow again. JC followed suit, smiling; as he drifted into contented sleep, he knew that he couldn't wait to get drunk with them again.


End file.
